The Fools We Are
by Hedonistic Opportunist
Summary: Because hope always dies last.


**The Fools We Are**

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_Notes_: This is experimental and is inspired by Ken Kesey's writing style. It might be confusing at first, everything should make sense. Concrit, as always, is welcome. I really do appreciate honest criticism.

* * *

When you're fifteen, you think that the future lies wide ahead of you and that you've got nothing to fear. It nearly seems as if immortal blood were pulsing in your veins: you're restless, bustling with energy and waiting for that plunge to dive into – it's curiosity that's leading you and you're anxious to finally know what life tastes like.

You're headstrong, passionate and full of hope. Most of all, however, you're just a fool. Life doesn't taste good because it's bitter as gall (and gall never tastes good, unless you're perverse and twisted in some way).

You're so foolish and blind you don't realise that one jolly good day, you'll hit total rock bottom. And once you've fallen into the deepest pit, hands and feet caked in squelching mud, there's nothing that'll make you rise again.

Yet, on the day you do realise what a damned, foolish idiot you've been, it's too late. Once the realisation seeps in, something inside of you cracks, cracks the way a skull does when it's broken up with a hammer: It's a grotesquely crunching sound that makes you sick, but you can't help it.

Just like the inside of that skull, you're hollow and empty, but still like a broken radio you can't help off emitting a half-hearted laugh: you laugh, and laugh so much till it makes your green in the face. It's an obscure sound (broken and unsettling), but you can't help it.

You can't help it because the hysterical laughter is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart. You'll laugh and laugh even if everything's gone to hell.

* * *

Naruto is twenty-five when he starts cracking. It's on a cold, windy day when he comes to understand how fucked up everything is and how he's powerless, unable to do anything. He's helpless, but still, in spite of that realisation, he isn't ready to give in. He hasn't reached the abyss yet and is clinging to a single thread.

"Why can't you just accept it, Naruto?" Sakura says in a shaking voice through half-shut eyes. She's looking hard at Naruto and holding that thread in her hands, trying to pull Naruto upwards, so he won't continue falling.

They're in a badly illuminated office, stuffy and oppressive in its atmosphere. Sheets of papers are stacked on top of each other, looking threatening and intimidating. It's supposed to be orderly, but it isn't – the smell of dust and rotting apples in a dustbin contradicts that appearance.

It's a depressing place, but the most appropriate for Naruto's mood: he doesn't want to be surrounded by sparkling, cheerful things because he'd only smash them. Happy people and faces make him feel appalled these days; it's inopportune for others to smile when he doesn't feel like it at all.

Sakura is tired and there are bags under her eyes: Naruto understands that this hard for her, too and that a part of her doesn't want to accept as much as he. But, unlike him, she's not denying anything.

"---because I just can't," Naruto finally answers lamely, fishing out a worn headband from his pocket; his hands tremble while he does it and he can't bear to look at her. It's strange that he still has it because the headband is of no use to anyone. The only thing special about it is the scratch he inflicted on it so many years ago.

It's a token he'll never let go of because it's precious.

Sakura doesn't say anything in return, but shakes her head ruefully and fixes him with a stare. For what could easily be hours, she just stares at him, never saying anything. She doesn't need to say anything because everything that should be said is conveyed through that determined gaze.

_Stop cheating yourself, Naruto. Stop telling him lies or painting a bright future when there's none. You're not doing either of you a favour by behaving like this. _

Naruto thinks that a punch in the guts would be more effective. He sometimes wishes that she'd do that, instead of caring and mothering him. It's rather ironic: he's longed so long for love and affection, but when he finally has it, he tosses it away.

"Naruto I..." Sakura starts saying, but her voice falls on deaf ears.

Naruto doesn't allow himself to be consoled with empty consolations and goes on cracking. He'll not stop because he's a blasted fool and stubborn: he's always been and it's not to be expected that he'll change. He lets go of the thread and continues to fall.

He's already fallen too deep to be rescued; there's no point in repairing something that's been broken already: he's like an old watch that has the hit ground too often and too harshly to work properly anymore. It's only going to take a while, though. He hasn't cracked yet; the skull hasn't opened up entirely yet: it's only a fracture. But soon, soon he'll crack: you just have to wait and see.

* * *

Often, in the late hours of the night, when little children toss fretfully in their beds or cover themselves in their blankets, Naruto is reminded of how it used to be before things fell apart.

He remembers the taste of Sasuke's lips and the warmth of his body; he tries to recall himself what it was like to share a bed with another person. He tries to remember what Sasuke is and for a while, these thoughts give him comfort. They shield him from cold reality like a blanket; they're all encompassing. It's a daydream he doesn't want to wake up from.

In his daydream, Sasuke tastes like unwavering ambition: hard, strong and dangerously addictive – it's like tobacco and whisky, all mixed together in a tempting frame. The skin of his body is rough and callused; there's nothing feminine about him, even his features are all hollow cheekbones, hard lines and grimness. But Naruto likes it best like that. Sasuke is strong and powerful: Sasuke is Sasuke and perfect, essential to him in every way.

Yes, Naruto remembers that with a smile and he grins from ear to ear, bringing forth to his mind how kisses with Sasuke are. Those kisses are rough, nearly painful and fighting for dominance; there's playful, challenging violence in it. And yet it's tender, warm and right because no one makes him feels as complete as Sasuke does.

And he sees him as he is now: that stiff, sweating and degraded figure in front of him. He's reminded of the skinny person that he sees in the on that bed each day, unable to move and barely possessing enough strength to talk.

And, in spite of it all, he's still the most beautiful thing Naruto has ever seen.

* * *

Sasuke's twenty-five years old when he realises that life's not a continuous line, and it's a pitiful, mind-numbing epiphany. He's always thought so little about his own existence that it's shocking for him to realise that he's a goner.

He isn't dying on a battlefield or fighting Itachi. Instead, Sasuke is dying of an illness: in the end, he's just as mortal and fragile like everyone else.

Death comes slowly to him; it's a long, desperate battle against time, against a failing body. But he doesn't give in and fights till the very last: he fights and fights against the dying of the light. He only stops once he realises that there's really nothing he can do. Still, even if he is going to die, Sasuke decides to do it honourably and not like a loser. He isn't denying anything either.

He's still strong, in spite of being chained to the bed (because even though his body is emaciated and he can barely eat, his spirit is unwavering and stubborn as ever).

"Sasuke, you'll make it," Naruto keeps saying in falsely optimistic way, lying in order to remain sane while holding Sasuke's hand possessively. He's holding on the hand so tightly that it's terrifying.

Sasuke doesn't taunt him, but turns his head towards Naruto and he's smiling up at him: it's the first time that he's doing this without any hesitation. There's no covering up, no threat attached to it because Sasuke isn't afraid anymore. He's just being honest now.

It's a gentle smile that sends jolts of shock to Naruto's very being. For the first time, Naruto sees Sasuke's light up and his features gain a peaceful expression: he look as if he's found what's been haunting him for so long. He's still smiling when his eyes close and his breathing slows down.

"Sasuke, don't you dare fucking leave me. You're not going to die; it's only a joke, right?" Naruto says desperately, feeling his entire frame shake with horror. He's scared in a way like he's never been afraid before; he's trembling from head to toe and there's nothing than can help from shuddering like this. It's as if acid were eating him up from inside.

He'd like to grasp that weak body and hold it against his own, but he'd break Sasuke if he did.

It takes Naruto a second to realise how strange that sounds; he's assaulted by memories again, seeing how strong and unbending Sasuke used to be, and he's nearly sick. It's sickening that Sasuke's that weak and frail, it's downright perverted because it's just not right.

It's too much for him and he finally cracks. Naruto cracks with a loud, deafening sound: it's the sound of someone who's never been broken, torn apart before, and now that he's finally breaking, it's loud and horrible.

He's crying and each sob is a crack, breaking him apart. Naruto is cracking: the skull is opening up and falling apart, leaving splinters spattered all over the place. He's falling. Nothing can keep him from falling because the only thing that could keep him from falling is quite simply, dying right in front of his eyes.

Therefore, the only thing Naruto can do at the moment is cry.

There's nothing cute or romantic in this sight: it's the crying of a man who's got nothing to lose. It's a hollow, embarrassing sound. He's losing the only thing that he gives a damn about.

Again, Sasuke doesn't talk, but his hand tightens and gives Naruto's a squeeze: he does it feebly because his strength has pretty much abandoned him. Then, he opens his mouth to say something, but the effort is too much and he remains quiet.

Instead, he uses the last ounce of energy he's got left to lift his hand slowly and brush his fingers against the whiskers on Naruto's face; he does it lovingly and tenderly, in a way that would even make an unknowing observer assured of their intimacy.

Naruto leans into the touch; deceiving himself once more…it's easier like this. For a lingering moment, he closes his eyes and pretends that everything's going to be alright again: that he'll be able to take Sasuke home.

He's taken him home before, even though others believed he'd never manage. Why should he fail now?

Why should he?

Slowly, the hand he's holding onto for dear life, turns limp. For a second, Naruto is shocked and embraces the man in his arms, not wanting, willing to believe. But he should must believe. What he's holding is a corpse, not Sasuke. Sasuke's gone and there's nothing he can do against it, whether he wants to or not.

And with that Naruto laughs, laughs hysterically and with such frightening intensity that it's nearly killing him. He's cracked and nothing can save him. He's landed on the bottom of the pit and nobody going to drag him upwards again.


End file.
